Angel's Ink

by Jocelynn Drake

  “Human?” I asked as I handed the photo back.

  Gideon stared at the picture, rubbing his thumb across the faces of his wife and child. “Yes,” he murmured, and then cleared his throat as he carefully put the picture back into his interior pocket. “Well, Ellen is human. Bridgette still has time to surprise me with powers, but so far she is just a human little girl.”

  Resting my left elbow on the car door, I leaned my head into my hand, my eyes wide with shock. This hard-ass guardian for the council and protector of its beliefs was a doting husband and father, breaking some of the Towers’s most basic rules. Warlocks and witches were not to associate with humans and certainly not permitted relationships with them.

  “If you’re caught,” I breathed, but I couldn’t finish the thought out loud.

  “Then we will be killed,” Gideon said in a cold voice that drew my gaze back over to him. “My innocent daughter will be killed. My wife, who has done nothing more horrible than love me, will be slaughtered.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images of Gideon’s happy family as I struggled to get my heart to stop racing. I felt myself getting sucked down this swirling vortex that was spiraling closer and closer to the utter destruction of everything—both human and Ivory Towers—and resulting in chaos. When I was sixteen, I had run from the Ivory Towers, just grateful that I still breathed. I had turned my back on everything and had started a new life. But now I was getting sucked back in.

  “Does she know?” I asked in a choked voice.

  “Who?”

  “Your wife.”

  “What I am? Yes, she knows.”

  “Does she understand the danger she’s in?” I pressed, anger growing inside me. Had Gideon not considered any of this when he decided to become involved with a human? Should anyone else discover the information he had shared with me, her life and her child’s would instantly be forfeit.

  “She knows and she loves me anyway. I’m very lucky,” Gideon admitted, though I was more willing to argue that he wasn’t very lucky at all to be putting loved ones in the way of a speeding train.

  I shifted in my seat again, feeling restless with pent-up energy and anxiety. Pacing the alley seemed like an appealing alternative to sitting in this cramped car with Gideon. The summer heat was turning the vehicle into a sweatbox. Unfortunately, I felt that getting out of the car wasn’t an option—Gideon had probably set a silencing spell over the vehicle so that our conversation couldn’t be overheard.

  “So what do you want from me?” I said, unable to keep the anxiety I was feeling from spilling into my words. “I didn’t leave Simon so that I could lead some kind of half-assed revolution. I don’t want anything to do with the rogues who left their mentors. I don’t want anything to do with what you’re talking about. Don’t misunderstand me. I support the ideas that you’re discussing, but I just don’t want anything to do with you people. I’ve worked really hard to set up this life for myself, and right now it’s all on the verge of falling to pieces. Leading some crazy revolution against the Towers isn’t going to help me fix the mess I’ve made of my life.”

  Gideon chuckled. “We don’t want you to lead us.” Surprisingly, his assurance irritated me more. His smile waned slightly as I glared at him. “We’re not trying to strike out against the Towers and start a war. We are just trying to protect ourselves so that we can live in secret with some security. Change will only come slowly. Not in a great explosion or a war.”

  “Then what do you want from me? Why are you protecting me?”

  “The only thing we want from you is that you live.”

  “Live?” I repeated dumbly as my sluggish brain fought to keep up with Gideon’s brand of insanity.

  “Just stay alive,” Gideon said, whispering it like a prayer. “As long as you’re alive, you give so many hope that we can escape the rigid ideas that still cage those of us in the Towers. You give hope that speaking out against the council and cruel mentors can be done successfully. You show that compassion is not a sign of weakness. You living your life outside the Towers will lead more to our cause.”

  “So instead of being the leader of your cause, I’ve become its symbol?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t feel good about this.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but you and Simon keep hammering at each other. Eventually, it won’t end in a stalemate. I thought you needed to know what’s riding on this fight.”

  “Oh, yeah! Putting more weight on my shoulders ahead of the biggest fight of my life is always a good idea,” I snapped. “It’s not enough that I worry about the safety of my friends simply because they know me, but let’s also throw on the success of an entire group looking for its freedom.”

  “We never meant for it to work out this way.”

  A sound of disgust jumped from the back of my throat as I shook my head. I had enough problems to worry about. I didn’t need to worry about Gideon and his family, even though they were now stuck in the back of my mind like a maggot burrowing through rotten meat. If I died, would their movement die with me? Would Gideon attempt to go into hiding in an effort to save his family? Or worse . . . would he cut off all ties from them so they wouldn’t be in danger?

  “Unfortunately,” the warlock continued when I didn’t say anything, “we need you to kill Simon just as badly as we need you alive. He is one of the most violently outspoken against the murmurs of our cause. He is also the one running in the lead to take the open seat on the council. He’ll shift the vote on the council and could potentially lead his own movement to seek out those who are thinking like us. Families would be wiped out in a single cleansing and I would be forced to either leave the Towers or lead the cleansing.”

  “So you’re asking me to kill Simon and live through the process?”

  “He knows he can’t claim the council seat if you’re still alive.”

  “Then help me kill him if you’re so desperate to keep me alive!”

  “I can’t.” Closing his eyes, Gideon leaned his head back against the headrest and his shoulders slumped. “I’m taking a big risk talking to you. As far as most know, my job is to find a way to bring you before the council so that they can finally vote for your death. Talking to you runs counter to those orders.”

  “Fine,” I growled, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I pulled myself forward so that I touched my forehead against the sticky plastic. “I’m alone in this. Kill Simon. Stay alive.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled as I flopped back down in my seat.

  Gideon scratched his chin in thought, his grim expression starting to lighten. He opened his eyes and looked at me. “But I can give you a small tip. You’ve got some newly acquired goods in your basement. Go to your black market connection.”

  “Chang?”

  “Yes, trade him for a magic deflection amulet. Merlin grade. It might not block everything, but it would give you a serious edge over Simon.”

  I nodded, lost in thought. Most didn’t believe that a warlock by the name of Merlin ever really existed, but his name was used to mark the highest power within the magic world. Merlin-grade items were extremely rare and valuable since they were nearly impossible to create and just as hard to destroy. It would give me an edge over Simon, but I was afraid that Chang would use it as an opportunity to get his hands on all the river waters. I still needed the waters to trade for something to get Trixie out of her bind.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And keep your goddamn wand with you!”

  “Thanks.”

  “When you’re done with Simon, make sure that all of that stuff is destroyed,” Gideon admonished, making me feel somewhat relieved that he didn’t want to get his hands on it. If I hadn’t been so desperate, I would never have brought all of the various waters back, but I knew I needed something really enticing to tempt Chang.

  “Not a problem,” I agreed.

  “Stay alive,” Gideon or
dered one last time.

  “You too,” I said with a snort, but when I looked over he had already disappeared.

  Stay alive. He almost made it sound easy.

  Chapter 32

  Tucked under my T-shirt and out of sight, the silver amulet was cold against my chest. As soon as Gideon disappeared, I’d darted back inside the tattoo parlor and grabbed my wand and the corked bottle of water from Phlegethon, the river of fire, that I had put aside for the old black market collector. The water from Phlegethon wasn’t the most appealing or dangerous of the set of five, but I’d suspected it would be enough to pique Chang’s interest. With four more waters still in my possession, the temptation that he might be able to possess them all eventually made him willing to deal with me that night. I warned him that if something went wrong, he would be dealing with my friends for the other four underworld waters.

  Chang had not been happy to part with his magic deflection amulet, throwing curses at me as he pounded his cane on the floor, but in the end, he acquiesced to my request and I was on my way to Sparks’s run-down little house at last.

  I parked my car down from the house where I had encountered the werewolves on my last visit to OTR. Closing the car door, I looked over at the ramshackle house and found that no one was outside. It was dark except for a flickering blue light that seeped between some curtains on the second floor. Either someone was still awake, or they had fallen asleep with the TV on. The yapping alpha-now-turned-Chihuahua was nowhere to be seen, but then I guessed that he was currently keeping a low profile until the spell wore off.

  My footsteps slowed as I approached Sparks’s house. The old man was sitting on the crumbling concrete steps leading up to the front door. A streetlamp outside his house lanced through the area, casting him in bright, unflattering light against the shadows that clung to the nearby homes and sickly trees. The old tattoo artist sucked on a cigarette, a thin wisp of gray smoke curling up from his right hand. Flicking off some excess ash with his thumb, Sparks stared straight ahead as he released another puff of smoke. He had yet to look at me, but he knew I was there. He was expecting me despite the fact that it was now close to four in the morning and I had given no indication that I would be returning to visit him so quickly.

  Walking down the middle of the empty street, I closely watched my former tattooing mentor take one last drag from the cigarette before he flicked it across the sidewalk to where it rolled into a pile of dried leaves and gray cigarette butts.

  “Late night,” he said in a rough voice that rumbled to where I had paused in the street, across from him.

  “Yeah.” I resisted the urge to shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I stood there. I needed my hands out and ready at my sides should Simon decide to attack suddenly. But there was nothing in the stillness, not the wind or even a car easing down the narrow, pothole-laden street. Sparks didn’t say anything as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared down at the cracked sidewalk in front of him. He had yet to look up at me, and I was wondering if the old bastard could look me in the eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I announced, my voice cutting across the distance so sharply that Sparks flinched. “You didn’t seem all that surprised to see me the other day. I was wondering why. We haven’t spoken in a few years.”

  Sparks gave only the barest of shrugs of his slumped, rounded shoulders. “I always knew that I’d see you around eventually.”

  “Why did you send her my way?” I asked, grinding the words between my teeth before I could shoot them at him. I started walking again, closing the distance between us so that I was standing in front of the curb.

  “I thought you could help her,” Sparks admitted. He lowered his head, and rubbed his hands over his face and through his thinning hair.

  “Help?” I snapped, but quickly got my voice back under control. “She was dying of cancer. What did you think I could do?”

  “Help.”

  “She’s dead.”

  Sparks shook his head, his tired eyes remaining on the sidewalk. His face was thin, as the skin seemed to hang off his cheekbones, deepening the wrinkles that lined his frowning mouth. He looked as if he had aged several years since I’d last seen him.

  “What were you expecting me to do? I’m a tattoo artist, not some goddamn miracle worker,” I pressed when the silence stretched between us.

  Atticus Sparks looked up, glaring at me through narrowed eyes. With a struggle, he pushed off the concrete steps and took a couple of steps closer. “I was expecting you to heal her, you cocky bastard!” he snarled. “Even when you were just learning how to mix potions and ink, you still walked around this place like you owned it. Okay, so you were a fast learner, but you weren’t the best there ever was and you still ain’t!”

  “I never claimed—” I started in a slightly dazed voice, but Sparks was quick to cut me off.

  “No? You weren’t strutting around with your nose in the air? You weren’t trying after the first year to correct me when I was stirring potions?”

  “Hey, I wasn’t as green as some of your other apprentices!” I snarled back at him. “I learned a few things while I was up in the Ivory Towers and I didn’t see any harm in trying to apply some of that knowledge.”

  “You should have stayed in that damned Tower!” Sparks shouted, jabbing his finger at the sky. His voice lowered to a sneer, as he inched closer to me. “You don’t belong here. You’re not one of us anymore, probably haven’t been for years. They brainwashed you, or maybe you were just born this way, I don’t know. What I do know is that because you think you’re better than the rest of us, you’re as bad as those arrogant bastards trying to crush us into the dirt.”

  I jerked back a step into the street, feeling as if I had been smacked by my father. When I left the Ivory Towers as a young teenager and was wandering around, feeling useless and lost, Sparks had been the one to swoop in and save me. While gruff and harsh, he had still been like a father to me. He hadn’t let on once during all the years I had known him that he felt like this about me.

  “How long have you felt like this?” I asked in a subdued voice.

  “Since the day I first met you,” Sparks growled.

  “Then why do anything? I was homeless, helpless, lost when you found me. I probably would have died out on the street if you hadn’t done something. Why bother if this is how you felt?”

  “Because for some insane reason I thought I might be able to change you. That was a waste of my time,” Sparks grumbled and then turned back to the steps where he sat down on the top one with a soft grunt. He waved me off. “Much like what you’re doing now. Get out of here. I don’t have any more time to waste on you.”

  I paced a few feet away from where I had been standing, clenching my fists at my sides. None of this was making any sense. “If you hate me so much, why send Tera to me? Was it just to see me fail? You wanted me to watch her die, knowing that I couldn’t do anything to help her? It looks like you could have used the money and yet you turned her away.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. Just get out of here!” Sparks barked.

  “Oh, I think it’s a bit late for that,” purred a deep voice from the shadows beyond the edge of Sparks’s house. I jerked my head in the direction of the comment as Sparks lurched to his feet. The old man took a couple of steps backward, edging in my direction. The frown on his lips deepened, pulling at the lines so that they dug heavy furrows in his face. Keeping my attention on the edge of the house, I tensed when Simon strolled into view and leaned against the side of the house.

  The warlock wore a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and dark tie with thin red stripes. His fingers were loosely threaded together and held just at waist level, his wand nowhere in sight. He was far from harmless, but at least he didn’t appear to be actively targeting me with a spell. Hatred glittered in his eyes as he watched me with a mocking smile. In all those years, I never saw anything other than hatred and contempt in the man’s eyes. He laughed
at another’s misfortune. He took joy in pain. Simon could not be permitted to ascend to the council.

  “Don’t look so sad, Gage,” he cooed as he pushed off from the corner of the house and walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps. As he moved closer, I backpedaled into the street, keeping distance between us. “You had to know that the old man was lying with every disgusting word that slipped from his alcohol-laced lips.”

  I slid my gaze over to Sparks to find him also shrinking from Simon as he approached. His eyes didn’t waver from the warlock, while his expression remained unreadable. Had Sparks been lying to me? His words had been shocking and didn’t exactly feel right, but he had delivered them with such force and venom that I hadn’t questioned it. They had played on my own fears. I had wondered time and time again when dealing with Tera if I had been too cocky when she had come to me.

  Simon’s dark laughter sent a shiver up my neck, drawing my full attention back to him. “You did believe him!” he exclaimed. “Amazing. I really did think you were smarter than that. Well, maybe you can be quite intelligent, but you really do lack any kind of common sense when it comes to other people. You should have taken the hint that he was nearly screaming at you.”

  “Hint?”

  “Leave,” Sparks grumbled under his breath.

  “Yes, he was trying quite earnestly to get you to leave and you just weren’t smart enough to take the hint,” Simon mocked. He dropped his hands down to his sides and I jerked back an extra step as he paused. His smile widened at my edginess. “We both knew it would only be a matter of time before you connected the dots back to Atticus, and you would come running here for some answers. He was just hoping that you’d leave before I showed up.”

  My gaze jumped from my first mentor to my last mentor, my heart thudding in my chest. I had been right. As far as I knew, Sparks and Simon had not known each other. There was no reason for their paths to cross but for me.

  “You set me up,” I said softly, looking over at Sparks. The old man shrank back from me, his shoulders rising as if he expected me to throw a spell at him, or just punch him in the face. His eyes fearfully darted to me for only a second before fixing on Simon again. He was struggling to decide which of us was the bigger threat at the moment. Simon was winning that contest, but I doubted that it was by a large margin. Sparks knew my temper.